


Of Good And Bad

by lunalovegoodsir



Category: Monty Python RPF
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Romance, Stalking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-05
Updated: 2014-08-05
Packaged: 2018-02-11 21:42:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2084178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunalovegoodsir/pseuds/lunalovegoodsir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael slips up. Eric avoids Michael. Michael stalks Eric. Things escalate from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Good And Bad

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I’ve written a Python fic. The first time I've written a slash fic. Also, it's my first time writing smut. *nervous laughter* So, naturally I would like to apologise to all of you in advance. Just saying.
> 
>  
> 
> I do not own Monty Python or its members. I am not making any profit from this story. Made only for entertainment purposes. Also, I’m 98.9% sure none of these events happened while they were filming in Scotland except for the bit about Eric and John changing hotels.

Michael watched Eric from afar, his eyes following the other man’s movement as he was led out of Doune Castle after another progressively slow day of filming. Michael sat in the bushes, watching Eric as he started the engine of his VW Automatic and drove away from the castle.

Eric had not spoken a word to him in the past 8 days of filming at Doune (not including the few scenes where the both of them had to appear together on camera) and Michael couldn’t think of a reason why. Eric didn't seem entirely bothered when he talked to the rest of the Pythons but had always managed to give Michael the slip whenever he was around. This had obviously frustrated Michael to no end, leaving him to stalk Eric from a distance so that he could observe Eric's queer behaviour.

He had an inkling that it had something to do with their last rendezvous on the day before the first day of filming. They had just arrived at a hotel in Doune where they had laid in bed together peacefully. Not kissing or doing anything naughty like they would normally do. Merely toying with each other’s hair whilst talking about their university days and their childhood. They had even skimmed through the topic about their families though they had obviously steered away from talking about their wives who had no knowledge of their love affair.

However, just as the both of them were falling asleep, Michael drowsily mentioned what he thought would be the consequences if Helen and Lyn or even their mothers were to find out about them. Eric had tensed up and remained quiet, getting up from bed in haste and leaving to Michael drift away in sleep alone, unaware of the lack of Eric’s presence in their previously 'shared' hotel room in Doune.

That same afternoon, Eric had proposed to John that they move to another hotel 20 miles down the road, for more hot water to themselves and space from the other Pythons - they were 'forced' to share rooms due to the tight budget of the film. John had wished to evade the two Terry's in the hope that they left him alone when they weren't filming and for Eric, it was Michael. And so they moved which is why Michael never got the chance to corner him and ask Eric why he was avoiding him in the first place. Michael hadn't a clue of what he had done wrong to deserve Eric's silent treatment.

* * *

Eric had been playfully flirting with Michael since the day they had met on the Frost Report, larking about the place with the usual mischievous grin gracing his features. At first, Michael flirted back innocently without much thought. No one around them gave it a second thought either. It was only when Eric had got piss drunk with Michael on the cheap wine Eric kept in his flat (Lyn was in Australia for a distant relative's wedding), did he confess his undying love for Michael.

"Hoooow do I know you - yes, you El - if you reeeaally love m-m-me?" Michael giggled drunkenly, his face flushed red from drinking. His slumped figure leaned onto Eric's shoulder, hugging his knees.

"I do know that I do love you and you can take my word. I'll show you how much I care about you, Mike," Eric whispered breathily, the scent of cheap wine and mint intoxicating Michael.

"Show me?" Michael questioned, shifting his head to get a clearer view of Eric. Eric lazily grinned at the thought as if he were in a daydream and replied, "Of course, I'll show you."

* * *

Promptly after the said exchange, they began to share secret kisses over the years, each one confusing Michael more than the last they would’ve shared. Michael had never contemplated on liking men. There was that one episode with Terry when they were still in Oxford however... No. That never counted. Michael never shared the same kind of love that Terry had for him. The days spent in Terry’s room in Teddy College, kissing and groping each other like animals in heat. All were due to Michael’s inability of declining Terry’s romantic advances, a problem that stemmed from simply being too nice. He did admit to himself that he had enjoyed it for some time but he just never saw Terry as a lover. Just a fuck buddy. _Ah, fuck._

“You look deep in thought. Looking for someone?” John asked casually, not looking away from his copy of Roget’s Thesaurus, an infamous book that John brought with him almost everywhere he went. Michael blushed and stumbled with his words as he tried to quickly think of an answer that wouldn’t raise John’s suspicions. “Y-No,” Michael kicked himself internally for slipping. He had not seen John observing him observing Eric. How long had John been watching him?

“Right,” John said dubiously before continuing, “Eric’s been meaning to go out with you and Gray for a night out. Told me to tell you he’s heading down to the hotel to clean up before he leaves for the pub with Graham.”

“Oh,” Michael paused in thought, “did he say anything else?”

“Not really. No,” John mumbled in reply. "Now if you excuse me. I think I need a shower - Gilliam absolutely loves drenching us with mud, doesn't he?"

He got up abruptly. “Would you like to come along?" John asked Michael faintly, his eyes assessing Michael’s facial expressions for anything wrong. Michael pretended to be nonchalant as he nodded and followed John from behind. He knew what exactly John was trying to do – he was trying to see if anything was the matter with Michael. It was what he had been doing for many years now, it was evident that John often felt very responsible for whatever happened to Michael like an older brother keeping an eye out for his siblings. He played the part very well, being the eldest of the Python troupe and almost always towering over everyone with his 6 feet 4 inch height but everyone knew that Michael, the youngest and somewhat most innocent member of their group, was the one John was almost always concerned about. After all, John had only wanted Michael to be a part of his new show back in the day instead of the full package.

They sat in John's car as John started his engine, softly humming Beethoven’s Fifth to himself. Michael watched the scenery as they passed by the Scottish landscape. “How are Helen and the kids?” John questioned casually, keeping his eyes on the road and hands on the steering wheel. “They’re good,” Michael said in reply, clearing his throat.

He was thinking. _Eric had not talked to him for most of the week and now he wants to have a drink with him and Graham?_

“Tom’s been trying to learn how to speak,” Michael added as an afterthought, absentmindedly fiddling with his thumbs. “That’s good,” John said thoughtfully before they resigned themselves to more silence. Minutes later, they had reached the hotel John and Eric were residing in for the whole duration of the Python filming. “Better get the hot water over here than there,” John had told Michael as they had gotten out of the car, “Go see Eric first. He said it was a bit urgent whatever it is he has to tell you. I need to sort several things at the reception counter. He’s in Room 12.”

Michael entered the hotel and slipped past the reception counter in search of Room 12. The hotel manager, a short middle aged Scottish lady who walked with an occasional gait, approached Michael sceptically asking who he was and who he was looking for. John, who had snuck up on him, explained that he was with him and told her to mind her own business. This only made the lady eye the both of them more suspiciously. Her voice was screechy, instantly reminding the both of them of the pepperpots they had to play when the show was still on the telly, as she said, “I won’t be having any poofs under my roof.”

"We aren't lovers, miss," John interjected with a straight face. It seemed like one of those sketches that one of the Pythons would write that went awfully wrong, it was almost comical. “Actually, I was hoping that you point to the right direction if I want to find a chemist’s shop in the town?”

“Yes… I suppose I 'ave got a few maps lying around if ya want ‘em,” she said slowly, sizing up John. Grumbling with mild annoyance, she went back to the reception counter.

John nudged Michael, his eyes darting to his left, while said lady began her search for a map of the town for John. Michael caught sight of Room 12 on his left before slowly edging away from John and the hotel manager. He knocked hesitantly three times, only to find that the door had been left unlocked.

Eric sat on the floor with his back facing Mike, unaware of Michael’s presence as he puffed on his cigarette which was odd since Michael knew that Eric had given up smoking in his Cambridge days. “Eric?” Michael walked to Eric and sat beside him sheepishly. He found out what it was that Eric was smoking. Weed.

Both of them basked in the silence before Eric subtly nudged him in the ribs and gave Michael a rolled up joint and a lighter. Michael glanced at Eric from the corner of his eyes. He still wasn’t looking at Michael. Michael took a hit and exhaled indulgently before he gingerly passed it back to Eric who did the same thing. They passed it back and forth, saying nothing in between. Michael could feel his body sinking in a good way, mimicking the sensation of sinking into a soft bed after coming back from a long day, all the tension evaporating. Eric clearly didn’t feel the same way, puffing lazy smoke rings into the air with a sombre frown before handing the joint back to Michael. Everything was soft in Michael’s head.

“Hey.” Michael delicately placed his hand on Eric’s shoulder, making Eric finally turn to face Michael. He got closer, even though they were already sitting with their skin coming into contact, and stared intensely into Michael’s green eyes as Michael gently placed the joint between Eric’s parted lips. His perfume, Eric never did enjoy the smell of aftershave, mingled with the smell of weed to produce an exotic smell. Michael didn't pull away and Eric didn't take a drag. Instead, he slowly pulled the joint out of his mouth and stubbed it out on the floor at the spot he was just frowning at. Michael looked up at him but his bright blue eyes were half-closed, staring at Mike’s leg with a lot of concentration for a person who’s been smoking weed for, what Michael suspected was, the past hour.

“It’s going to be shit when we leave Scotland after filming. I think I want to die,” Eric had finally said, still not looking at Michael. He was high and of course, it sounded stupid to say it to Michael at the moment but he had meant it. “What do you mean?” Michael asked in a daze.

“Nothing would be the same again,” Eric said softly, fingers kneading Michael's palm. “Why?” Michael fidgeted in his spot on the floor, waiting for Eric to respond. He could hear Eric sigh and mumble something incoherent under his breath. They sat in silence for a while, their thoughts slow to form.

“I came back one night to the flat and I found some bloke in bed with Lyn,” Eric’s voice was strained and it clearly hurt for him to say so. He picked up the joint again heedfully and took another hit.

"Says she isn't happy with our marriage and how I can't seem to be a good enough father to Carey. She’s filing for divorce and she’s planning to take Carey away from me," Eric continued, his face ashen with deep sorrow.

Michael didn’t say anything, but he pulled his eyes up to meet Eric's. His pupils were dilated and the whites had turned slightly pink. They flicked around restlessly, as if he was searching Michael’s face for something. Michael blinked. And then they were kissing, mouths open, saliva sliding down Mike’s chin. They kissed for a long time, in a subaqueous space where nothing else could be felt, where nothing else mattered, except their mouths, rhythmically opening and closing and giving and taking; they were both obviously trying to devour each other, like mythical sea creatures with distorted features that you would hear about in a campfire story, battling in the darkest, quietest parts of the sea where nothing else can see or hear them, their beings almost non-existent. Their minds were simultaneously bright and hazy; the air began to change as it burnt bright colours of gold, bright orange & red, reflecting their thoughts like acid.

"Is there anything I can do to help you?" Eric pulled away from Michael, staring at him blankly as those words left Michael's mouth.

"I don't think you can do anything, Mike. _She's going to take Carey away_!"

Michael was lost. He looked at Eric whose eyes were dark. 'Perhaps it's the weed,' Michael thought uncertainly, He licked his lips, pulling his own upper lip over his teeth as he did so. Eric gazed distractedly at Michael’s mouth. Eric, then, suddenly leaned forward, his right hand gripping Michael’s dark locks, as he pulled Michael towards him. Their lips collided in a rough kiss. Limbs tangled, Michael shifted, clumsily pulling his leg up to rest it on his other side.

His tongue invaded Eric’s mouth. His hands gripped onto the hem of his T-shirt, attempting to pull it off Eric’s lean body. Before he could do so, Eric pulled him further towards the bed before he settled between Mike’s legs, pinning both of Michael’s wrists to the end of the bed. He straddled Michael. Michael could feel that his lips were swollen and bruised. Michael tried to get more friction by rolling his hips forward, feeling the need to be satisfied surfacing through, his erection straining against the fabric of his jeans.

“Eric... please...”

“Please what, Mikey?” Eric asked knowingly, rubbing himself against Michael’s crotch subtly but pulling away when Michael attempted to push himself against Eric. “El.. El, do something,” Michael begged.

Michael spread his legs further, inviting Eric to move in. Eric pushed their crotches together again, causing Michael to arch back in pleasure as he produced a breathless moaning sound that Eric rarely hears coming from Michael’s throat. Eric lost balance in the heat of the moment, temporarily unaware that he's given Michael a chance to topple him over. Michael’s mouth hovered towards the neck, giving Eric a bit of a bite on the side of his neck as his hands got to work on pulling Eric’s shirt off.

“Take. Your. Shirt. Off,” Michael growled impatiently into Eric’s ear before swiftly pulling Eric’s shirt over his head. His body was not like most of the blokes he’s seen shirtless in school and university. Or even amongst the Pythons. Eric had a lovely tan, acquired from a recent holiday to Barbados, and was incredibly lanky, like a man’s body with several feminine touches, Michael mused. Light hair peppered his chest and to some extent, trailed down to his naval.

Michael pulled his own shirt off too, his hands were then on Eric’s chest, moving through the fine hair there, fingers playing with his nipples. Eric hissed, mindlessly pushing his hips forward and his head closer to the hotel room floor. “What’s wrong, Ewic? Is something the matter?” Michael asked mockingly, looking deeply into Eric’s eyes as he licked Eric’s aroused nipples, leaving a wet trail the way down to his naval. “Fuck, Mike. D-Don’t stop! P-p-please,” Eric groaned heartily. "You like this, don't you?" Michael smirked as he murmured this to himself.

“Ewic?” Michael looked at Eric from beneath his lashes, pouting for the extra effect.

“I swear to God, I'll cum on the spot if you keep looking at me like that, Mike,” Eric growled in response.

“I think you have to take your pants off if you’re going to cum, Ewic. We can’t have you dirtying your trousers,” Michael said to Eric huskily, “How should I take your trousers off? Hmm? How about this?”

Michael sank down to Eric’s thighs, rubbing at them curiously before undoing Eric’s leather belt.

"Ewic?” Michael called out in a sing-song voice, getting Eric’s attention, “Look 'ere. I want you to look at me while I do this.”

Michael bit onto the fabric of Eric’s jeans and tugged it off with his teeth, managing to undo the button on Eric’s corduroy trousers while keeping eye contact with Eric who was struggling to do so. Pulling his trousers down, Michael cupped Eric’s cock which was already hard on its own accord and subtly placed pressure on it, causing Eric to squirm on the spot, his wavy golden brown hair being splayed across the floor and his plump lips parted. Michael then pulled Eric’s boxers down to his knees. His erection stood proud, slightly curved, and was oozing with pre-cum.

“Let me,” Michael suggested huskily before closing his lips onto Eric’s head, making him moan obscenely, loving the feeling of Michael’s wet, warm mouth suck on him like that. Michael’s persona of being the innocent one in the group immediately flew out of the window. Eric almost fainted at the instant sensation. It was so torturously slow and at times heartstopping, but Eric loved it nevertheless. His hands moved through Michael's hair and down to knead his tense shoulders, as if to encourage Michael further.

"Fuck off. Oh God, shit," groaned Eric exasperatedly, his inner thighs tingling.

Michael looked up from Eric’s cock and into his eyes as he pumped Eric's length at a steady pace, one hand gripping the base of his erect penis and his head bobbing up and down. He didn't want Eric to cum. Not yet. Scrambling to get up, he unbuttoned his trousers and pulled off his underwear, exhibiting his own painstakingly erect member. He gruffly grabbed Eric and threw him onto the bed. “I wanna fuck you. Would you like that?,” Michael whispered into Eric’s ear, hot breath making the experience more exciting somehow, “I’m going to fuck you so hard that you won’t be able to feel your own arse tomorrow. So hard that the both of us won’t be able to go for tomorrow’s filming."

Eric immensely turned on by this side of Michael, whimpered at the thought. Their lips met once again in a hot mess, enabling Eric to taste his own cum on Michael's tongue. Eric pulled back quickly, leaving Michael frustrated and horny. "Bloody tease," Michael muttered under his breath.

"Where’s the lube?!" Eric ran to the bathroom, his phallus bobbing in synchronisation with his steps. "There's no time for lube," Michael gasped, hands beginning to stray down to his nether regions. "Shut up, there's always fucking time for lube," Eric shouted in response as he ransacked his toiletries, "I knew I had some here somewhere."

Michael, who grew impatient as the seconds ticked by, pumped his own length calmly. "Don't start wanking on my bed, Mike," Eric paused briefly, "Not without me anyway... Found it!"

Eric grabbed the bottle hastily, running back to find Michael masturbating on his bed, breathing heavily. "I'm ready," Eric whispered breathily into Michael's ear, his hand snaking around Michael's hip to stifle his progress. He threw the bottle of lube at Michael, who caught it and deposited a generous amount of lube on his palm.

Michael felt a command rise in his throat. “Bend over,” he ordered.

His fingers slithered to the crevice of Eric's bum, massaging his way to Eric’s tense opening whilst spreading a very generous amount of lube around his entrance.

“Michael..."

"Calm down, pet," Michael hushed, a lubricated finger slowly pushing into Eric who squirmed at the sudden discomfort from having a finger up his bum. It was only seconds before Michael began experimenting with the depth and speed, trying to find Eric’s sweet spot. Eric whimpered in pleasure, beginning to push back against the pace of Michael’s slick finger. He slipped another in and increased the speed of his hand, occasionally stopping to scissor Eric's entrance.

"Michael... I think -"

"Yes?"

"Oh... Yeah... Yes, there... Fuck, I think- Mike, Mike - I think I'm going to cum," Eric moaned, his body beginning to tremble slightly, experiencing what he could call a state of bliss.

"Can't have that now, can we?" Michael donned an impish grin, pulling his fingers out, only to replace them with his cock. Lubricated and ready as ever, he pushed into Eric, enjoying the pressure surrounding his phallus, a somewhat blissful feeling that made him feel as though he were everywhere without being everywhere, if that made any sense.

"Alright, love?" Michael whispered.

"Feel better if ya move a little more," Eric grunted, adjusting his legs as he began to lose feeling in one of his legs. Michael nodded and began to thrust in and out of Eric, slowing picking up speed as he got used to the carnal sensations of Eric's bum.

Eric's eyes were clenched shut, mumbling incoherent words to himself as he was comforted by the orgasmic feeling of having Michael complete him. Michael thrusted in and out gently, waiting for Eric to open his cerulean blue eyes. He waited, not wanting to increase the pace until he did.

"Relax, El," Michael said soothingly, stroking Eric's cheek, "Are you going to open your eyes?"

Eric became less tense, hearing Michael's raspy voice. He cautiously peeked at Michael with one eye, seeing and of course feeling Mike as he continued to thrust laconically into Eric. "Mike," Eric gasped for breath, "you're amazing."

"You too, love," Michael smiled gently, "Mind this next bit."

Michael quickened his thrusts, trying to remember the angle in which he found Eric's sweet spot. He shifted his hips, allowing him to plunge deeper into Eric.

"Deeper! Please... Please... Shit," exclaimed Eric as Michael thrusted harder into him, almost ramming into him but not quite. Michael was high on adrenaline, Eric's cries urging him to go again and again and again, harder with every thrust. His loins ached and he couldn't help but groan every time he pounded further into Eric.

Eric's fingernails dug into Michael's shoulders, clinging onto him for dear life. Michael reached a point where he couldn't go deeper nor could he go faster.

"Eric, I love you so so so much," babbled Michael as he came inside Eric. He continued to ride his orgasm out, urgently thrusting into Eric's tight passage.

And then, Eric came untouched with a surprised yelp, slathering his cum onto their stomachs as he blacked out, slumping onto Michael. They laid on the bed, exhausted and glowing from post-coital bliss. Michael was trying to control his breathing, placing his lips on Eric's sweaty forehead. He looked happier asleep. Nothing could bother him in his sleep.

Silence.

Michael glanced at the clock on the wall. **7:38pm.** _Didn't John say that Graham and Eric were suppose to be heading to a pub around this time?_

He answered the question with a mental shrug. He couldn't care less about what John had said to him. He pulled out another joint that had been kicked under the bed in their haste to undress each other. Michael took a hit and exhaled lazy smoke rings. His heart was content on staying in bed with Eric - awake or not.

* * *


End file.
